


Relax My Beloved

by winterfrostwidow



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alexei and Natalia did love each other don't lie to yourselves people, Angst, Black Widow Comics, Clintasha - Freeform, Don't Like Don't Read, F/M, I call this 'alexinat', KGB, Love, Passionate, Red Guardian, Roughly Based On Comics, Russia, The comics in which before buckynat became a thing, Unexplored Story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-06 09:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19059595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterfrostwidow/pseuds/winterfrostwidow
Summary: The unexplored love story of Natalia Romanova & her husband.{At least my take on it}





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My face claim for Alexei Shostakov is Ben Barnes. Shoot me.

**Post-WWII**

**September 1945**

 

The side of his face was pressed against the cold granite black floor, a light shiver making a quick travel down his spine from the chill. His body was a long spread out mess on the surface, as if he were clinging onto something for dear life. He didn't care if his uniform would collect dirt, though he doubted that was possible because his right-wing woman, Dominika, had always preferred everything of his squeaky clean. She didn't take a break from tormenting their cleaners to keep the floors shiny.

Alexei leaned towards the cigarette again, smoke swirling into the air from the bud. He took a long inhale, before a shapely cloud wafted upwards and faded into nothing as he puffed. He coughed as he grabbed the almost emptied bottle of whiskey beside him and drank, swallowing bitterly with a grimace.

His face was a wet mess.

He slammed the bottle back down and wiped the tears away.

He let out a shaky breath as the vivid swooping noise of planes flying overhead with the deafening drilling of his firing gun machine buzzed into his ears as if he were reliving that day. He remembered the static sound of his friend's voice saying his final words through the comms; and the grief that clutched him after Nikolas's fighter-plane crashed.

_'Colonel. I got hit. I'm ditching.'_

Alexei was left all alone in the stratosphere to fight off the last of the enemies; all his teammates down. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to win this, which he did, though he couldn't bear the deaths of his mates. He promised he had their backs. 

He would've rather preferred them winning as a team than him being the only one to make it out alive. He had no wife to come home to. No kids excitedly waiting for his arrival.

But Nikolas and Viktor did.

Even in this cold bedroom Alexei possessed no photographs. No sentimental object for remembrance of someone. It was just a desk with it's chair, a bed, a closet, and this cold granite black floor.

His father, who was also a pilot who fought in this War, was his last family alive, but he'd been only there to force Alexei into the navy flight training since he was fifteen. It was rather a frigid relationship between them. He could be dead by now and Alexei wouldn't care. 

 

A soft knock was made on his door.  

" _Colonel Shostakov?_ " Dominika's soft voice called out from the other side.

He rolled his eyes and pressed the cigarette bud to the floor until the whole thing shrunk. He made suppressed coughing sounds as he glared at the door. He wanted to tell her to piss off but he was too professional. He stood up, not wanting her to see him like this. 

When he had risen up, though, he stumbled a little; feeling light like a feather. He snorted at his clumsiness. He picked up the whiskey bottle and neared his cheval mirror after placing it on the desk beside it. His eyes were watery and painfully red. He glared at his face in the reflection, leaning his arm on the frame of the mirror. Vicious coughs seized him and they stopped after a full minute later.

" _Colonel?_ " The voice sounded worried.

"Just come in for god's sake," he snapped, feeling exhausted, his throat ticklish.

The door opened, she walked in, but she didn't close it again. He didn't tell her to anyway. She stepped closer to him.

"You're going to be late for your meeting with the KGB Director in half an hour, sir."

"Oh, shit." He groaned and his forehead fell against the cold surface of the mirror. He'd completely forgotten about that. "Well I'm dressed anyway," he grumbled.

"That's good," she said and let out a breath. "But I wouldn't want you to be late. Director Smirnov does not like late-comers, sir."

Alexei leaned off the mirror and turned to her, letting out a chuckle. "I could imagine." 

He stared at the pretty woman who was dressed in her green uniform. He really did like her in a skirt.

"Are you alright, sir?" She stepped closer to him when she saw his red eyes then she realized he reeked of alcohol. She found the whiskey bottle on the desk. He saw her and laughed to himself.

"You meant to ask if I'm drunk?" He grinned.

She looked up at his toothy smile with a solemn face.

He laughed, and ended up giggling.

She huffed out and straightened her jacket. "Wait here."

 

After six minutes she was back with a cup of strong coffee. 

 

"You're no fun."

"I have to keep you in line," she said back.

He handled the cup and drank. He gave her a disgusted look. "No sugar?"

She frowned. "I thought you liked it like this."

"I just drank whiskey. My tongue tastes bitter enough!"

She tried not to roll her eyes at him.

Once he was done drinking the coffee and put the cup away on his desk, he looked down at his pocket watch. "Director Smirnov won't be happy. Time is against me."

She smiled and fixed his tie for him. "So don't be late."

"Then don't let me be late," he remarked back.

She rolled her eyes, still smiling.

He kept staring at her the whole time and when she glanced up, she blushed. She stepped back. His hands subconsciously went up to his tie. 

"Where's your hat?" She asked and looked around, away from his handsome face. She spotted his black hat on the middle of his neat bed. She walked away from him and took it. He watched her closely, eyes narrowed as she came back to him and perched it on his head. "There," she said.

"Handsome?" He quirked an eyebrow.

She pursed her lips to not smile at him.

He took that as a yes anyway. "Let's go then, Miss Petrova."


	2. Chapter 2

When they arrived at the KGB station, they were only two minutes ahead of time. They went through the security in front. The KGB police stared at his pilot uniform that was so full of badges that there was no more space for evidence of achievement to be displayed anywhere anymore. Alexei smirked, prideful of his successes, and took off his hat out of respect when Director Smirnov walked up to them. The officers made way for the superior man.

"Colonel Shostakov." The older man shook hands with him.

"Director." Alexei bowed his head and dropped his hand after the firm handshake. "This is Miss Petrova, my right-wing woman. I hope you won't mind if she, ah, joins us?"

"No. I don't mind at all." The Director gave her a nod, taking her by surprise at the lack of sexism. 

Alexei tightly smiled. "That's good."

"To my office then."

 

 

The office was not as large as Alexei expected. The small space and the stuffy air made him want to squirm in his seat more but Dominika kept putting her hand on his knee and shaking her head at him as if he were a misbehaving child.

"I only hear great stories of you, Colonel Shostakov," the Director began, sitting on his seat behind his messy desk across from them. 

"And that's how you tell truth from rumours, Director," Alexei replied smugly, making the man chuckle.

"But it is the story of yesterday that interests me. You terminated seven fighter planes all by yourself after your teammates fell out."

Alexei swallowed at that, the memory of Nikolas's plane explosion so vivid.

"Not to mention getting involved in a fight that wasn't yours; exterminating a German primary glider aircraft when you only had six gallons of fuel left." The Director narrowed his eyes; so dang impressed with the young man sitting across from him. 

Were it not for the losses of his best friend and teammates, Alexei would be gloating. But he wasn't. He simply could not breathe. Not with the trauma from yesterday still so fresh in his mind, nor the stuffiness in this small spaced office.

He needed a cigarette. 

"Can I light a cigarette?" He asked instead.

The Director's expression didn't change, watching the young man carefully with deep interest. "Sure. Whatever makes you comfortable."

Dominika clenched her jaw, not wanting smoke added to this muggy atmosphere. But she said nothing.

Alexei lit up a cigarette and took a long drag. "So," he spoke as smoke came out of his nose and mouth, "am I here because you want to make me a proposition?" He asked, wanting to get to the root of things already. He didn't want to talk about War.

"I want you to work for me. Your skill set is magnificent."

Alexei coughed, and coughed again. The cough took over until he was hunched over and Dominika put her hand on his back. "Colonel?"

Alexei let out one last cough and sat back, an iron taste on his tongue. 

Director continued, unbothered by his aggressive fit of coughs, not worried in the least, "If you come back here, everything you know and everything that you are now will be enhanced, Colonel Shostakov."

" _Everything_ ," Alexei flatly said that word with a raise of his eyebrows, his cigarette coming back to his mouth. He took a drag as he stared at the framed photograph on the shelf behind the Director. It looked like a family.

"You have the potential to be the greatest-"

"I'm not interested," Alexei said dully, looking back at the Director whose face was unreadable.

He coughed again. Dominika took the cigarette from his fingers, earning a scowl. "Why?" He snapped at her.

The Director laughed. "Women always know what they're doing, Alexei."

Alexei arched an eyebrow at the first name basis. "It was a pleasure having you, Director Smirnov." He stood up, leaving so soon, and Dominika followed suit. 

The Director remained sitting but he shook hands with Alexei. "You too, Colonel. If you change your mind..."

Alexei smirked. "My mind is already tired."

"Alright. But if you do-"

"It's tired and nothing will change," he said, the annoyance seeping from his words. He put his hat back on his head & sharply walked away out of that cramped space of an office, Dominika behind his heels looking for a trash bin to get rid of the cigarette in her hand. 

She found one. She walked over to it and tossed the cigarette in. 

When she turned back around to catch up with her Colonel, she found him leaning against a wall, in another coughing fit. A KGB soldier was beside him, holding his back. He fell to his knees now, the coughing becoming so loud she could hear it clearly from where she stood. She gasped, placing her hand to her chest. The coughs were hoarse and sounded deeply painful against the throat. Her face paled when he dropped to the floor. "Alexei!" She rushed to him.


	3. Chapter 3

His eyes fluttered open slowly, his blurry vision clearing to bright fluorescent lights glaring down at him. He grimaced at the light and turned his head sideways. He felt his throat burn ferociously, feeling like it was scraped by razors. He resisted an itching cough and forced himself to sit up on the bench bed. He frowned, looking around the white infirmary room. He hated the hospital smell. But he was in no hospital. 

It was just him in the room. 

He slipped off the bed and walked over to the closed door, looking sideways through the single squared window pane of the door. 

The hallway was lit and it was empty. 

Then his eyes averted ahead, staring at the opposite door from him. 

He frowned, able to see through the window pane of the other door. He narrowed his eyes. 

He saw striking dark red hair.

A woman.

A young woman perched on top on her bench bed, dressed in what looked to be a hospital gown. 

Alexei was still in his uniform.

The doctor in her infirmary room was walking around, holding a clipboard to his chest as he checked something on the shelf beside her.

Her head was making strange lazy movements downwards, as if she were dozing in and out of consciousness.

Then suddenly her head jumped back upright, and she sharply tilted her neck to look to where he was staring at her. It gave him the creeps when she caught him. 

He didn't look away though.

Even from a distance, he could tell from her eyes that she was disturbed.

His frown deepened as he flew his door open. He found himself drawn to her, nearing her door while she kept looking at him with her dark gaze. A chill ran down his spine. He was so close to her door now and she still kept staring. His hand was on the handle.

"Colonel Shostakov."

Alexei flinched at the sudden voice and sharply turned around to the KGB police. "Jesus," he snapped, the hairs on his arms already standing.

"Sorry." The policeman frowned for a moment. "Director wants to see you."

"I fell out of consciousness," Alexei recalled.

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Fifteen minutes, sir. You weren't breathing. The doctors performed cardiopulmonary resuscitation. The Director wants to see you. Follow me."

So Alexei followed, unbothered by the forwardness.

 

 

 

 

 

Alexei frowned when he found Dominika already in the Director's office. His hat was on top of her lap. She looked up at him worriedly but didn't say anything.

"Director," Alexei said to the sitting man. He could still smell the smoke in the muggy atmosphere.

"Colonel."

Alexei sat where he sat before, next to Dominika. "I guess I should thank you..."

"No, no." He waved off. "You don't have to."

The younger man sighed. "I have no idea what happened."

"Neither did she. I had to calm her; she wouldn't leave your side."

Alexei didn't look at her. Instead he gave the man an embarrassed smile. "I should also apologize-"

"Please. Enough, Colonel. Do not thank, do not apologize."

Alexei smirked. "Guess you're going to use my guilt for your proposition?"

The Director laughed. "It does seem fitting. But no. Not that." He looked delighted. Alexei had no idea why. He frowned.

"Then what?" He asked warily.

"Colonel, my doctors scanned you. And, you have lung cancer."

Alexei paused, letting those causally-said words sink in. They did. And he couldn't hear anything anymore.

Dominika was talking to him.

He had no idea what she was saying.

The Director was grinning.

He had no idea why.

Suddenly, the muffled noises became clearer to his ears.

"... but there's a way," Dominika finished.

Alexei stared at the Director, his face blank. He actually didn't feel anything. He was always ready to die anyway. In war or natural occurrences.

"What she said, Colonel," The Director added.

Alexei thought of the redhead girl he saw. The haunted yet tired look in her eyes. He felt a strange and strong pang in his chest when he thought about her now. He gulped hard, his throat sore. That redhead had definitely captured his attention. "Who is that girl with red hair?" He demanded firmly. "The one I saw near my infirmary room."

They were both surprised at the sudden change of topic, especially from one that involved his health.

"Alexei," Dominika snapped at him. 

The Director frowned.

"Who are you talking about?" Her voice softened now, her concern clear as day.

Alexei looked at her. "Let the Director answer the question," he told the blonde woman before he looked back at the man of the office.

This time he wasn't grinning like before. "That is none of your concern."

"I want to know," Alexei pressed.

"Why?"

"Because I'm interested in her."

The Director smirked. "You cannot have her."

Dominika cocked her head at Alexei.

"I never said I wanted her," he snapped, "I simply wish to know who she is."

The Director pressed his lips into a thin line. "I thought anyone would know the famous ballerina."

Alexei frowned. "I don't watch... ballet."

"Are you not familiar with the name Natalia Romanova?" The Director asked in surprised. "She is the most popular dancer from the Bolshoi Theatre."

"I know her," Dominika said, "My little sister likes her."

The Director smiled at her. "She knows her. And you don't, Colonel?"

Alexei merely arched an eyebrow. "No. Name isn't familiar to me."

"Pity. She is the greatest thing to watch."

"She is," Dominika agreed.

"What is a ballet dancer doing here anyway?" Alexei raised his eyebrows.

He saw the Director's face darken for a moment there. 

"What is she doing in an infirmary room in here, of all places?" He pressed on. "If something is wrong with her, she should be in a hospital or something. Correct or not?"

"I can cure your cancer, Colonel," the Director drawled.

He paused, squinting his eyes. 

"I am not answering any more of your questions. Natalia is none of your concern."

Alexei clenched his jaw tightly.

"Work with us, we cure your cancer, and we'll make you Russia's own hero."

Dominika frowned. "Hero?"

"I meant superhero," The Director corrected himself, eyes intently on Alexei, "A  _su_ _per_ hero."

"I don't want anything to do with War," Alexei found himself snarling.

The Director smiled. "Not War, no. You will stop wars, Alexei. You will stop corruption. You will stop killers; spies from other nations meaning to ruin us. You will protect Russia."

Alexei leaned back in his seat, pondering, silent as ever.

He'd always wanted to be a hero.

He knew he was in some way, but he'd failed Nikolas and Viktor. He didn't watch their backs.

Nikolas would want this for him. Nikolas would say  _Take it, you lazy shit. It will do you good_.

Alexei's mouth quirked up in a weak smile as he looked down his lap, his long hair falling over the sides of his face; concealing his expression from the other parties in the room.

He will do this for Nikolas and Viktor.

He must.

He lifted his head back up. "Fine."


	4. Chapter 4

The rain pounded in the second-day after the War had ended; the day after Alexei agreed to work for the KGB but didn't officially sign himself off to them yet. There was a procedure he'd scheduled for tomorrow once he signed those papers and established as a KGB asset. He wasn't one yet.

Right now he was just Alexei.

Or perhaps he was solely just a shadow under an umbrella in a distant, watching the memorial of his deceased friends as he took drags from his cigarette; which led to painful coughs and a splutter of blood to his white handkerchief. He found himself laughing. "Shostakov, you poor man. Why is it that I intend to make myself suffer? I am going to be cured tomorrow and I only worsen my afternoon by hurting myself," he said to himself; shaking his head and discarding the small bud away to the wet grass.

 

They were doing all they could to fix the damage in Russia and wipe the battlefields clean. They'd found bodies, some identifiable, and many funerals were being held this week for the millions of deceased soldiers. 

Alexei knew about Nikolas's body and Viktor's. The bodies may as well been ash. No casket for them, but at least they were honoured with a space in the cemetery among the many other dead heroes; where they truly belonged. 

The memorial was touching. He just couldn't bring himself to attend. If he approached that service he knew Nikolas's wife would blame him for everything; she would definitely cause a scene. And besides his avoidance of the humiliation, he was also sparing her from more pain.

' _Nikolas loves you, Alexei. He wouldn't have joined this War were it not for you. He follows you where ever you go, since you were both kids_ ,' she once told him. He sensed resentment from her tone.

She always hated him.

Not that he cared.

 

 

 

When he came back to his mansion - his lonely cold place that he long ago accepted as a home - he found an envelope on his bed in his room. He removed his drenched rain-jacket and sat down beside the letter, cold and hissing as he shivered. He tattered the thing open, not seeming to give a damn. He intended to read it fast and take the hot bath the maids had prepared for him in the other room. He stood up as he read, sitting only making him colder.

_You are acquired an invitation to the Bolshoi Ballet this evening. The Director Smirnov would like it if you'attended. Apologies to the late announcement. If you have future plans, you will be excused._

_If not, you may just have a chance at meeting the great Natalia Romanova_.

The scribbly written letter didn't sign off with a name but a golden ticket slipped from the envelope and onto the floor. He tossed the letter aside and retrieved the hard glowing ticket. The italic letters were carved so deeply to it that it made the smooth surface uneven.

There was the date, the time of arrival, his seat number, and the name of the play. 

_The War Has Ended_

It was already very telling. 

But Alexei was torn between wanting absolutely nothing with the War and wanting to see that woman again. 

 _Natalia Romanova,_  she was called.

 

 

 

His indecisiveness seized once he found himself dressing into a suit and fixing his long hair back after his hot bath.

He was going to attend.


	5. Chapter 5

He hadn't seen Dominika for the last hours and he knew of her brother's funeral. He gave her his condolences. She intended to retire soon, too. War was over. He didn't think he needed to pilot anymore, therefore he didn't need her anymore.

But Alexei did wish that she'd join him to the ballet in Bolshoi. He was alone. He was without a partner entering into the warmth of the giant extravagant gold building; after giving his ticket in out in the front. He ignored the many looks from young & old women, which was so unlike him, and searched for a familiar face around; feeling out of place like a fish out of water.

"Colonel Shostakov."

Alexei immediately turned around to the rough voice and saw Director Smirnov walk up to him, excusing himself as he moved through the many crowds.

"Glad you could make it."

"Director Smirnov," Alexei said in greeting as he bowed his head to the old man with his hands folded behind his back and nodded to his companions behind him who were introduced.

The Director frowned at him, looking down his body. "I notice you're not wearing your uniform."

He let out a gasp, suddenly feeling too conscious as the generals scrutinized him. He opened his mouth to explain that he didn't know it was necessary but he was spoken over.

"Perhaps he is so modest that he doesn't want to flash his badge-filled uniform to us old geezers who've achieved lesser than him," said the scariest-looking general, General Mikhailov.

Alexei forced out a chuckle. Oh no, he wouldn't miss a moment to show off his successes, but he'll pretend otherwise. "Why I chose this attire. I'm quite the simple man. I'm relieved that it's not a problem."

"It isn't for any of us, but, perhaps you will feel as if you should have worn your uniform once you're introduced to Miss Romanova," Director Smirnov's eyes lit up with something that Alexei couldn't decipher. He didn't know what the old man was playing at. He thought he wanted him far away from the redhead. Somehow, someway, Alexei will find out exactly what Director Smirnov was trying to conceal.

"I am looking forward to meeting her," Alexei replied calmly, smiling easily.

"You'll love her," said General Popov.

"Quite the sweetheart she is," said General Ivanov.

"You can meet her know backstage, before she starts her dance," Director Smirnov said, "yes?"

Alexei felt his heart begin to throb. He felt the nerves forming in the pit of his stomach. 

He gave the Director a nod.

For a long while he had thoughts of her; when he wasn't thinking of the War or anything else. He even dreamt of her though he'd forgotten about what.

 

So he followed the Director alone backstage in which they were granted access to. 

 

Alexei hadn't been like this before; wanting to see someone again so badly having barely met the person. He wondered how she will react once she saw him again.

Shocked, perhaps?

 

 

He saw red hair.

He stopped immediately.

She was standing in the hallway, back to them, taking photographs with important men. 

He looked away from the flashes of the box cameras and stared at her. His eyes trailed down the arch of her back to the curves of her hips. She was petite, smaller. But her body was stunning; beneath the black & red dress with the lace wrap skirt & a firm corset.

"Miss Natalia," Director called out to her once she was done posing for the cameras.

Alexei braced himself for when she turned around.

She twirled to them so graciously, her shoulder-length wavy hair moving with her. 

Her eyes were on him first.

He held his breath.

Her eyes were deeply green and wide, her full lips luscious and red. 

He stared; and stared; and stared. 

She merely arched a sharp brow

He waited. But she seemed disinterested, nevermind the lack of recognition.

She nonchalantly averted her sharp gaze from him to the Director. "Director Smirnov," she spoke with a breathtaking smile, her voice soft and slightly husky; warm like honey. He kissed the back of her palm and she blushed.

"Always a pleasure, Natalia."

Alexei stood there, his face set in a stern expression, watching their interaction closely.

 

_Just what was the Director hiding?_

 

"This is the famous Colonel Alexei Shostakov," Director put his hand on his shoulder and pulled him forward to her as he did the introduction. "The one of many great stories."

Natalia looked at Alexei who already staring down at her. She smiled and gestured the back of her palm to him, waiting for it to be kissed. 

"Ma'am." He bowed his head and gently took her hand, pecking her palm before he lifted his head back up.

She didn't pull her hand away, and he continued to hold it. It was warm; and soft; and small in his.

"Where's your uniform?" She quirked her eyebrow.

"I... I didn't think it was necessary," he stuttered. He studied her face. Her eyes were not the same eyes that stared back at him from the infirmary.

"Nonsense. Every soldier needs to look their best in gatherings, especially after the War. Their best is when they're adorned in their uniforms." The corner of her lips pulled upwards as she added, "Or maybe the ladies seem to think so."

"So I am not appealing enough?" He playfully narrowed his eyes.

Her own eyes trailed from her head to his polished leather shoes, then back up. "I didn't say that, did I?" She teased him.

"You make it sound like that."

"Don't read too much into things, Colonel. Women do that."

He chuckled. "A charmer."

She smiled, his hand subconsciously rubbing circles on her palm.

"I, just as everyone else, have heard of your heroism," she said with praise.

He smiled at the gorgeous lady. "I hope the stories impress you."

"And how would it matter, Colonel Shostakov?" She raised an eyebrow, amused.

"The opinions from beautiful people, at times, matter." He winked.

She blushed. "You mean to say beautiful women."

"That, too."

She laughed behind her other hand, the one still in his not moving. "A charmer," she repeated his earlier words.

He frowned for a moment as he stared at her attentively. "You're worth to try to charm."

"I'm a target for men like you everyday, Colonel Shostakov, you never let me rest," she said with a smirk and finally slipped her hand from his, her deep green eyes locked with his dark brown ones.

"There are no men like me," he replied smugly.

"Yes, there is only one Alexei Shostakov," she spoke up the ceiling, as if reminding herself.

He laughed. "You have humour."

"I hope I do. I'd be worried if people thought me humourless."

He stepped closer to her, making her crane her neck up. He was extremely tall. "You don't seem as one who would care what others think," his voice came out as a sultry whisper, rendering her quite speechless in the heat of the moment.

"I don't," she said finally, swallowing visibly; clearly attracted to him. "Not like you, anyway. Telling me I'm 'worth to try to charm'," she mocked him.

He chuckled. "You will remember me, Natalia."

She stared at him, narrowing her eyes, her smile long gone. "I have a problem with short-term memory. But hopefully..."

She had no idea the irony of her own words.

"Until next time, Colonel Shostakov. My show will be starting in a few. Do excuse me." She quickly walked passed him before he could see her beautiful face for the last time this evening; but he couldn't wait any longer to see her dance on stage.

 

 

"So."

He didn't realize he was still staring at her retreating back until the Director's voice spoke. He had completely forgotten about him. Did he disappear? Alexei sharply turned to him. 

"You really do like her, don't you?" The Director smirked.

Alexei narrowed his eyes suspiciously, not saying anything, which made him grin.

"She is ours, Colonel. Ours."

 


	6. Chapter 6

The lights dimmed and the audience quieted down once everyone settled. He was impatient, his fists clenching and unclenching. He sat on his numbered seat, the General officers and KGB Director near him. Others were faces he didn't recognize. 

"This is the best view," Director Smirnov whispered.

They were at the grand upper circle seats, where the most important people sat.

Alexei said nothing and just nodded, feeling a little exasperation from the man. There was no doubt that Alexei felt deep disdain towards him. Ignoring the brewing annoyance, he looked at the stage just as the spotlight began gleaming onto a lonely figure in the middle.

"That's her," Director Smirnov pointed.

"I can see it's her," Alexei snapped, his eyes to the redhead. He involuntarily coughed.

The woman straightened in an elegant posture but her head was hanging low. The faint keys of the piano began cuing in, setting in an enigmatic atmosphere.

She began moving fluidly, already pulling him in with obsessive attention. She moved in dainty steps, as if she were weightless. The expressions of her dance was one of melancholy. She was so beautiful and delicate. Were it not for his strangely ardent interest in her, he would've laughed at this sentimental art. He had no patience for softness; though he never really liked violence as well. Alexei just wasn't one to stop by and pay attention to the tender things in the world. All he knew was war and death; all he knew was killing. 

But this...

For someone who had survived from the constant brushes with death and had killed many men in battle, he was feeling quite soft.

He watched her gestures intently, her gracious moves set in to intricate flowing patterns, telling a story with her body. He swallowed as the tempo of the music began to set in a depressing mood, her dance telling tragedy.

Alexei found himself leaning forward, his mouth apart as he watched.

She was only for his eyes.

He was lost in her movements, drinking in the sight of her. She became painful to watch as the dance went on. He felt tears sting his eyes. The dance triggered his own losses. He felt the Director's eyes on him; but he could care less about that wisenheimer bastard. There was a time Alexei's pride was still swelling incredibly; a time who would let no one see him cry.

He'd changed. Of course, he was still a man with pride. But the War had changed his arrogance...

 

He stood up and applauded with exaltation when the dance ended, watching her as she smiled and did an adorable curtsy on the stage. Roses were thrown to her. She caught a bouquet and grinned. She gave a big kiss to the audience who cheered for her. She did one last curtsy before she moved to exit the stage.

 

Alexei let out a heavy breath, already moving out of the circle seat area.

He planned to go to her.

 

"Excuse me...  Sorry...   Excuse me... Pardon me, sorry," he kept repeating as he moved through the people. He was backstage. He saw her red hair. She was walking down the hallway, ignoring her praisers. "Miss Natalia!" He called out, but his words were blocked by the many other callings to her. He clenched his jaw and forced his way further down, not apologizing as he pushed through. He almost stumbled forward as he slipped through the security men.

"Hey!" One of them almost grabbed him but he dodged. He rushed forward and caught her arm, twisting her to him.

She gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes, pressed to him. "What do you think you're doing?" She snapped, shoving him off her. She glared at him. 

"Natalia." He let out an irresistible cough, titling his head the other way before looking back at her.

"Colonel Shostakov?" She raised a sharp brow. 

"I just- I just... well I guess I just wanted to say how perfect you were out there," he said a little out of breath from chasing her; but it was worth it.

She stared at him and her face softened. "Oh."

"Oh?" He lifted an eyebrow and laughed.

She glared at him again. "Are you mocking me?"

He laughed even more and put his hands on his hips. "I chased you all the way down the passageway just to hear an 'oh' when I praise you."

Her expression changed again. She smirked. "I know I'm magnificent, Colonel. I've said many 'thank you's' for the past years."

He grinned, stepping closer to her. "It wouldn't hurt to say it over again."

She stared up at him with deep interest. "You are such a bold man," she drawled.

He chuckled. "Well... when you say it like that..." he leaned his face to hers.

She raised her chin up, their lips now aligned. "Say it like what?" Her voice was sharp.

"Like it doesn't fascinate you."

"What do I need to be fascinated by, exactly, Colonel?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again.

She chuckled. 

He nodded, accepting the defeat. "You had me there."

She let out a giggle, looking away from him as she blushed. But she couldn't hide it from him. His hand reached out and he held her chin gently, tilting her face back to him. 

Their eyes watched each other.

It was for a long moment until she overcame the heated moment and took his hand off her chin. "Alexei... right?" 

The way she said his name sent a pool of heat in his stomach. He cleared his throat and moved away from her. "Yes." He gave her a small smile.

She stared at him in silence again, looking as if she were lost for words. Then she was blushing again, but forced herself to maintain the eye contact. "It was nice meeting you."

He opened his mouth to say the same; but before he could say a word out a group of men interrupted them and took her by her arms.

"Wait, no," she said to them with her eyes widened, shaking her head.

"We have to go," said one of the men to her.

She struggled against them. Her bouquet of roses fell. She tried to fight the giant men.

Alexei couldn't help but intervene. "I suggest you leave the lady," he growled.

"You stay the hell out of it," the other bulky man pointed his finger in his face as he spoke, which Alexei certainly didn't like.

 

It was an easy way to set him off. 

Pointing a finger in his face.

Alexei was a smart man, intelligent. If not, then why was he the best pilot of Russia?

But there were many things that he was not, too. One, being a man who couldn't handle his anger.

He never thought of holding back.

He punched the poor bastard in his gut and kneed him, hurling him to the ground; solely focused on hurting the man, having forgotten completely about Natalia.

This was why he hated fights.

It was hard to stop.

He intended to reign all of his anger - all of the emotions he kept in - onto him. He wanted to inflict pain; something he rarely did in person, only in a distance. A hand pulled him from the back of his jacket and he was punched square in the face. He heard Natalia's voice, but it was muffled in his ears.

Did she cry out for him?

He couldn't tell.

He didn't fight back as he was pounded to the ground. In a way, he loved the physical pain; whether it was inflicted on others or on him. He let them do whatever they wanted to do to him. But, unfortunately for him, it ended too soon.

It ended far too soon.

He was just about to sink into the numbness where the pain was just too much; but they barely beaten him to the edge.

 

They took Natalia away, and he never saw her again.


	7. Chapter 7

There were throbbing swellings on his once-handsome face. Well, to him he still looked good. But he darkly glared at his unappealing reflection. 

One of the servant women cleaned up his face. He barely flinched when she dabbed the cloth on a stinging wound on his cheekbone. 

 

Alexei could feel the beginning flames of an upcoming rage. He could clearly see it in his dark gaze in the mirror. The last thing he remembered in the theatre was one of the men's faces; not Natalia. He didn't see Natalia. He didn't know how she faired. And the more he was concerned for her, the more the flames burned.

"Leave," he snapped at the woman tending him. When she remained there longer, he looked up at her and repeated unkindly, "Get out."

He watched her with angry eyes as she shyly ran out of his room. He stood up and tucked his jacket back on. He was still in his suit. And he intended to leave his mansion once again.

 

 

 

He slammed the front door of his house as he stormed out and climbed into his red Plymouth car. 

 

 

 

 

 

A pair of smoking KGB soldiers standing in the night outside their station paused and frowned at the car speeding towards their building. 

"Who's this asshole?" One of them asked.

 

The brakes of the expensive car screeched as it came to a halt and a tall fella stepped out. His face didn't look so good, and he didn't look so happy either.

"Colonel Shostakov," the two immediately addressed the soldier with a salute.

"Officers," he said back curtly with a quick head bow and briskly walked past them into the entrance of the building.

Their faces fell as they watched him go. "Wonder what crawled up his ass. 

 

 

 

"Oi! Where do you think you're going?" Demanded the security police, stopping his rush.

"I need to speak to Director Smirnov," Alexei turned to them with narrowed eyes, impatient. 

"Go home. Go crawl in your bed with your wife."

Alexei clenched his jaw. 

"He ain't here, sorry."

"I don't have a wife," he snapped. 

One of the men watched him with furrowed eyebrows, a little skeptical.  "...No shit."

"I know he's here, officer. You will let me through," Alexei ordered.

The man with the stubborn face crossed his thick arms over his chest. "Sorry. Just doing my job here. You're definitely not going past us."

Alexei glared and took a slow step closer to the short man. "You will listen to me, officer--"

Before he could finish his threat; there was the Director there, leaning against the wall and watching them in amusement. "Crap, Stalin. Let the man through."

The security man still scowled at Alexei but dropped his arms back to his sides. "Yes, sir." He stepped aside to let the Colonel through, all the while giving him a hostile look. Alexei tried to ignore him. 

"Let's go to my office, Colonel," Director turned, expecting him to follow.

Alexei gave the security man a last glare before he followed.

 

 

 

 

 

Alexei entered back into the stuffy office. He directly took a seat without being told so and his eyes were sharpened on the Director.

"I would apologise for my men attacking you but, you intervened when you knew not to," the older man began, giving him a tight smile.

Alexei frowned. He already knew that this had to do with the KGB. It only angered him more to have it confirmed. 

But he just needed one more confirmation, though. A suspicion that had been lurking his mind. 

He narrowed his eyes unkindly as he asked, "Natalia is a spy, isn't she?"

Director stared at him, his mouth pursed.

"Isn't she?" Alexei hissed.

"And so what?"

"I want to find out how the most famous ballerina of Russia is a KGB spy," he snapped.

"You are in no position-"

"I will not sign those papers if you don't answer my questions, Director. I'd be careful if I were you. I know that I am irreplaceable..."

The Director narrowed his eyes a little contemptuously.

"Take one compromise, in order for me to join your, ah, 'project'," the younger man said casually.

The Director glared. "Don't you ever interrupt me again," he growled.

Alexei was unfazed. "Or what? You'll lock me in a prison? You know that I don't have to take the cure if I don't want to. I don't give a shit about dying. I have nothing to lose."

The older man was silent.

" _One_   _compromise_ ," Alexei lowered his voice, leaning forward against his desk.

"She is a KGB spy," he snarled.

"She's been trained or did it appeal to you that she was a ballerina, a good disguise, but untrained?"

"...The latter."

"That's sloppy." Alexei snorted, leaning back in his seat. "Even for Russia."

"No, Colonel. You see, she's less dangerous untrained. Far less dangerous when she has no clue that she is KGB." The Director grinned. 

Alexei's amused smirk fell off and he frowned, straightening in his seat. "What do you mean no clue?"

The man's grin widened. "She has been programmed, Colonel. Her mind is ours. We program her mind when we send her off to missions. We can tell her she is, say for example, Tatiana Jovovich from the farms, and she will believe it. Though she will know how to extract information and bring it back to us. It is far better than training her. She is more trustworthy like that. Trained spies can easily compromise themselves... they can get too attached. But not Natalia, if programmed. Her main story though, the ballerina, may be the only thing that isn't a fabrication... well the closest thing."

Alexei soaked all of those words in, and as the Director spoke each word, he felt the anger. He slammed his fists against the desk at the last word and stood up, the chair behind him dragging back. "This is inhumane!"

"It's for Russia!" The Director snarled back, on his feet too. The two faced off each other. "You will do anything for your country and so will I!"

"You have no right!"

"Do not tell me about rights, son! I have been alive for more than fifty years and I will not let you, some boy from the skies, tell me what's wrong and right! I have lived long enough to realize that if you love your country, you'll have to forgot you had any principles! One day you will understand. You will understand that no good will be made by playing Jesus. Good results come by being the Devil once in a while."

Alexei glowered at him.

"Sit down," the Director ordered.

He didn't sit.

"Sit down!!"

Alexei's glower remained, as he slowly straightened and forced himself to sit no matter how much his body went against it.

The Director sighed and sat down too. He stared at his face silently. He was looking at the swelled bruises. After the scrutiny, he leaned back and pulled open one of the drawers of his desk. He took out a syringe and a tiny tube with blue liquid. 

Alexei frowned, thinking about Natalia as the Director sucked the blue liquid into the syringe. The rage had subsided as he thought of her. He felt a strong need to do something about her suffering.

"Colonel," the Director's voice pulled him back. He looked at the syringe.

"What's this?"

"What does it look like to you? Your mother's kettle?"

Alexei clenched his jaw and scowled.

The Director rolled his eyes. "Inject yourself with it." When he didn't move to take it, he explained, "It will be a large part of your procedure tomorrow." He smirked as he added, "You'll look like yourself again if you inject yourself right now."

Alexei hesitantly took it. 

"Alright. Go ahead, Colonel Shostakov." He smiled and leaned back in his chair.

Alexei pulled his sleeves up and without another thought he sunk the needle into the back of his elbow before he pressed the syringe all the while glaring at the Director. "I want to marry Natalia," he said coldly.

The Director watched him solemnly. 

"Do you understand me?" Alexei snapped.

"Why?"

"I want her to have a normal life."

"With you?"

Alexei removed the syringe once the substance was in his system. "Of course. And she'll have nothing to do with you, or anybody else."

"And what makes you think you'll have your way?"

"You need me more than you need her, I know this."

"You're full of yourself."

"No, Director. I just speak the truth."

The Director stood up and walked around him to a small drawer table. He opened a drawer. "The serum is patching up your face, Colonel." He took out a mirror. He handed it to Alexei.

 

The younger man stared at his reflection, at his now flawless face. He blinked and his mouth hung open for a moment, then it closed. He swallowed and smirked, a little uneasy. "Cure of cancer, huh?"

The Director took the mirror as he chuckled.  "Not yet. That was a very small dose. It doesn't affect your health. Your skin only."

Alexei looked down at his lap, frowning. "Natalia..."

The Director released a heavy sigh as he closed the drawer after putting the mirror back in. "I'll have to talk to her guardian; Ivan Petrovitch."

"Let me talk to him, whoever he is."

"No," the Director said and turned to him. "He won't like you."

Alexei looked back up at him. He didn't say anything.

"I'm willing to trade her for you. So... she can be yours now, Colonel."

 


End file.
